The Challenge
by Lady Kasai
Summary: Title's lame and it's rated for language. I was sick of all of the cliche ideas on the 'net, so I threw our favorite saiyan warriors into a marching band. I know that sounds dumb, too, but give it a try. I'm sure you'll like it more than you think.


"...fine then, it's a challenge. You take 100 of your best instrumentalists and make them into a marching competition band, and the winner gets to have the planet."  
  
Zorn's stomach twisted into a knot. Saiyans were excellent for lots of things. You want a body guard? You got it. Soldier? Definitely. Technician? Sure. Medic, Sex slave, stress relief... Hell, you might even be able to find one that can cook pretty well. But could they play instruments? Negative. He chewed on his lower lip and thought it over. He never was one to turn down a challenge, and if he did it would certainly name him a coward.. That would lead to him losing his life because King Vegeta didn't tolerate cowards, and THEN he'd be ridiculed in Hell. But...a band? "Alright. You want a saiyan band? Fine. When's the competition?"  
  
"Four months, on Arlia's biggest moon."  
  
"We'll be there."  
  
~  
  
Those three words had sealed Zorn's fate. He went home that evening to the quarters he shared with Sullion and King Vegeta and told them the news. The king had lost all color to his face, turned away, and walked into the bedroom. He was still there. Sullion started laughing so hard that he had actually fallen to the ground clutching his stomach. Zorn pouted and folded his arms. Did they not think that he could rise to the challenge? He sighed through his nose and clenched his hands. He had to compile a list of who would do what in his mind. But first... he had to find out what exactly a marching band WAS.  
  
He got up from his comfortable spot on the down-stuffed couch and grabbed his personal computer off of the bookshelf. He opened it up and accessed the built-in dictionary with a sigh. Typing in the words "marching band", he hit return and glared at the screen when the results appeared.  
  
" The word you've entered isn't in the dictionary. Click on a spelling suggestion below or try again using the Dictionary search box to the right."  
  
His eyebrow twitched and he reached for the delete button. Hitting return after only "band" was showing and receiving no better results, he sighed and laid his head sideways on the desk. "This is hopeless," he muttered to himself, "and I'm going to make a fool of myself and my race." He sighed yet again and tried to come up with anything that would clue him in on what he was supposed to do. He looked back to his computer and went back to the dictionary, selecting the encyclopedia option this time. He had a grasp on what the band did from catching the gossip off of a small group of soldiers from time to time, but he had no clue what they looked like or how they were organized.  
  
Zorn looked up his now-rivaling band, frowning as half of the picture of their name didn't show up. The Marching...? He wrinkled his nose and snorted. The Marching what? The Marching Things? The Marching Marchers? The Marching Sons of Bitches? Even HE could come up with better names than that! The picture loaded and depicted a small group, maybe of a hundred or so of the same race dressed in tacky uniforms. They had hats on that looked positively ridiculous, in Zorn's opinion, not only because they were blue and yellow, but because they had 6-inch plumes towering over the peak of the front of the tall hat. They each held their respective instruments, which all appeared to be hand-made. Two more important looking aliens knelt in the front with their hands behind their backs. They were dressed in simple blue body suits that reminded Zorn of the one the prince trained in. He sighed.  
  
"I don't want my troops dressed in anything that looks like that," he mumbled, "nor do I want them prancing about in patterns in front of a crowd..." He scrolled down to see what was quite possibly one of the most horrifying sights in his life: twenty of the said aliens dressed in next to nothing, over-accenting their many curves and smiling generically. They all had small wands with long, white and gold ribbons attached to the ends. The ribbons were wrapped around their bodies like snakes. "They look like whores!" he whispered in disgust. Zorn balked and moved on. There were a few other pictures of the band marching around, and he downloaded a few video and sound files so he could see and hear them in action. Once Zorn was satisfied that he knew enough to wing it, he quickly went to his office to design some...sensible outfits.  
  
~  
  
A few days later, the instruments arrived. Zorn closed down the main battle arena and summoned his saiyans of choice. There were some old friends, old enemies, new friends, new enemies, dysfunctional-looking families, and some faces he didn't know. They gathered in the stands, divided by at least 30 feet between each class . Most were apprehensive of the slender elite, but a few were curious. Once he guessed that everybody who was going to come had shown up, he cleared his throat and began.  
  
"My fellow saiyans," he addressed clearly, his voice carrying easily through the warm morning air, "I've gathered you all here today because I have been challenged by a rival of ours. I am to compile a marching band and compete with his own." There were murmurs through the crowd, which calmed when Zorn rose a hand. "I understand that not many of you play instruments-"  
  
"INSTRUMENTS ARE FOR PUSSIES!"  
  
Zorn's eyebrow twitched. The offender was an off-beat teen who had just come back from his mission and had not been taught his proper place yet. Clasping his hands behind his back, he cleared his throat and threw his best glare at the stupid brat. "As I was saying," he threw the frigid glower around to everybody else, daring them to speak out as the teen did, "not many of you may play instruments, but you WILL play them. Very soon. Others will be dancers; mostly the females." The girls shrunk back in disgust. The guys laughed. "IF there are any COMPLAINTS, they will be quickly silenced along with their originator."  
  
The crowd grew still.  
  
"Now, then. I will be assigning your instruments and/or positions in the band to you accordingly. Practice starts tomorrow at dawn in the clearing behind the palace training grounds. As you leave here today, you shall be given envelopes containing valuable information. Do not lose them; you will not get another. Dismissed, and remember - Dawn. Stragglers shall be killed upon arrival."  
  
With that, he turned and returned to the stadium arch, ignoring the many moans and groans that emanated from the once-quiet stands. He sighed; this wasn't going to be easy, but he was the elite commander, right? He could do anything...right? He hoped so. Stepping through the palace gates, he wondered if he really had done the right thing. Some challenges were just...not meant to be taken.  
  
He found his way to his quarters expertly and when he arrived, he removed his armor with a solid yank and dropped it to the right of the door jam. He then flopped down on his massive leather couch, rubbed a hand over his brows, and sighed long and hard. Then came a chuckle. He supposed it was a good opportunity to get back at some saiyans that he didn't like, but would he really make the entire band pay for their mistakes? Zorn shook his head and decided that it would probably best if the band acted as a whole, not have stand-outs. After all, that's how an army worked, right?  
  
Suddenly, he perked up.  
  
An army! How different from an army could a marching band be? Sure, armies didn't march in fancy patterns and play fancy music and dress in fancy clothing and go to fancy tournaments, but they DID have disciplined participants with cut-throat precision and hours upon hours of grueling, torturous practice and hard work... He grinned widely. Saiyans were already conditioned for the army, right? So how hard could this possibly be?  
  
Then it dawned on him. They had to LEARN the instruments before they could PLAY them.  
  
His grin faded once more and he sighed wearily. He knew how to play a flute- like instrument, but he couldn't quite have a band completely compiled of just flutes, now could he? Twiddling his fingers and thumbs, he tapped this boots together and decided to go ask the king. If anybody knew of a musical race, it would definitely have to be him.  
  
~  
  
"A musical race, eh?" The king frowned. "Well, the only race I can think of that we haven't killed off or enslaved to the point of extinction would have to be the Arlians, and they're your rivals, are they not?" He watched Zorn nod. "Well, just wing it."  
  
"Sire?"  
  
"You know, play it by ear. Have them experiment with their instruments and work with it as you go along. How bad could it be? You're going to have to learn somehow. You know how to play that one stick instrument, don't you?"  
  
"It's called a flute, sire."  
  
"Whatever, just make sure you teach a good few of them how to play that."  
  
"Where should I get the instruments from, my lord?"  
  
"I don't know... Ask around. Maybe try and contact a few saiyans off- planet? Who cares. Just get them and get them fast. I don't want you to be a complete embarrassment."  
  
Zorn bowed his head and turned to leave before he was caught on the elbow by a royal hand. Turning with questioning eyes, he was met by a fierce-but- pleading stare. "Zorn," the king began, his voice sounding a little anxious, "teach my son to play your...flute."  
  
Zorn would have pissed himself had he not been in so much shock. "Sire?"  
  
"I want to teach him that there is more to life than strength and death."  
  
"Eh.. um.. but Sire..."  
  
"Do it, Zorn."  
  
"Yes, sir." He was dismissed and walked out of the royal chambers into his own. Teach the prince to play an instrument? He balked. He could barely teach the prince to tie his own shoes, the little twit had so little patience. How the hell was he supposed to teach him the dedication, patience, and tenderness it took to learn how to play such a complicated instrument? A sigh. He buried his face into his hands and walked over to the closet where he kept his instrument. Removing the small wooden box from the top shelf, he set it on the table and stared at it with contempt. "I can't believe that I can actually hate an instrument."  
  
Regardless, he opened the delicate wooden case and removed the pieces of his only weakness, placing them together as he had done for years and years. Finally, quietly, he raised the hollowed shoot and blew across the top of the first and foremost opening, creating a haunting, heartbreaking tone that filled the Spartan room and wavered a tad before cutting off. Taking another breath, he let his fingers do the walking and put everything he had into the music he was playing (he usually ended up doing so, anyway), never realizing how depressing it always ended up sounding.  
  
Outside of his door, Sullion and King Vegeta leaned up against the wooden slab and listened with wide eyes. Neither of them ever even dreamed of learning how to play an instrument, as it was considered a marring feature. However, the muted tune emanating from the room before them was by no means marring. It was, to say the very least (or most, by saiyan consideration), absolutely breathtaking. Sullion looked up to his king and whispered, "I didn't know he could do that..."  
  
"I didn't know he was so sad..."  
  
~  
  
Meanwhile, back at the Bardock residence, the Commander and Sub-Commander were mulling heatedly over a game much like Risk. Bardock looked up at his best friend and sighed deeply. Neither of them could really concentrate with this whole "band" thing first and foremost in their minds. They had both flipped through their respective packets and read over the "valuable information", which was pretty much just a load of bullshit, as far as Bardock was concerned. It explained what a marching band was, how it was set up, blah blah blah... He couldn't possibly care less.  
  
The gruff commander was shaken from his thoughts, however, as a smirking Toma suddenly conquered one of his leading countries. "You should really stop getting lost in your thoughts, Bardock, or at least make a map," he grinned at his joke, "'cause if you keep it up, I'm gonna finally win against you, and where would you be then, Mr. High And Mighty?"  
  
"Planting my boot so far up your ass that the sweat on my knee would quench your thirst."  
  
"Touchy! Hey, what instrument do you think you're gonna get tomorrow morning?"  
  
" I don't know. Quite frankly, I don't care, either. Instruments are for weaklings, not for fully grown men and soldiers to boot. It's ridiculous."  
  
"So are you gonna try and get out of it?"  
  
" No, I'm not that stupid. I may think that this is all a load of crock, but Zorn would gladly kick my ass if I tried anything. He's just waiting for an excuse." Bardock suddenly grinned and nabbed three of Toma's countries at the same time, causing the other man to gasp angrily and bite his lower lip. "Besides, do you think I'd actually pass up the opportunity to see Celipa dance in front of an audience? She'll probably be so pissed off that she'll forget her moves and embarrass herself even more."  
  
"Yeah? Man. I gotta admit, I'm actually kinda lookin' forward to this, y'know?"  
  
Bardock chuckled and shook his head at his best friend before conquering the last country with a smirk. "Yeah, Toma. You would."  
  
~  
  
The next morning, Zorn had the instrument cases sorted and stacked accordingly. He had already been there for an hour, and the first sun hadn't even begun to rise. He twiddled his thumbs and kicked at the worn ground, causing the flute case hanging from his nether armor to sway and clank against the hard plates. He had a clipboard with several lists attached to it, including who was going to play what, stand where, and listen to whom. Sullion was propped up against a stack of bass drum cases, snoring quietly. Prince Vegeta had his head resting on the younger guard's thigh, also snoozing. King Vegeta said that he had had other matters to attend to and couldn't make it, but Zorn thought that he was just getting out of seeing his troops try something new.  
  
He would not admit that he was nervous.  
  
Looking to the horizon, he saw that a few saiyans were beginning to arrive early. Two of them came side-by-side, and a single saiyan flew a few feet away from them. Bardock, Toma, and Celipa. Funny, he thought, that they would be the first ones there. He groaned inwardly and looked down at his list. He had decided that Bardock was to play the instrument that the strange race had called a "saxophone". Toma was to play a bass drum, and Celipa needed a dancing uniform. He could handle that, he thought. Definitely.  
  
Now, which was which? He stalked over to what he thought he could remember being a saxophone's case, but when he opened it, the instrument that was revealed looked much different than the picture beside Bardock's name. Growling quietly, he went to a set of cases nearly identical to the one he just opened, grinned at his victory of selecting the correct instrument on his second try, then closed it up and handed it to Bardock, who threw him a dirty look in return. He motioned Toma towards the bass drums, quietly telling him to just pick one and go sit in the stands. The spiky-haired saiyan did so (though rather awkwardly, for the case was nearly bigger than his entire upper half) and walked back to the stands to sit, taking Bardock with him.  
  
He grinned and waved Celipa over to the case of dancing uniforms. The burly guard felt a sudden compelling urge for small talk and smothered it instantly, instead turning to the upstart female and asking for her measurements. He didn't expect her to know them, so it was no surprise to him when she muttered something along the lines of "Go to hell." Unsnapping the cloth tape measure from just beside his flute case, he fought tooth and nail to keep the sudden blush from his face (he couldn't figure out why it was there, either) as he proceeded to measure shoulders, bust, stomach, and hips. She growled at him and received an answering growl just as fierce before having a small bundle shoved into her hands and being pushed away.  
  
She growled offensively and flipped her tail about, clutching her new clothing into a tighter ball of cloth. Toma had since removed his large drum from its case and was now inspecting it with a look on his face that Celipa decided was a mix of confusion and curiosity. Padding over to her only friends, she snapped her armor off and peeled away the spandex , deciding that she'd might as well dress then instead of in front of the entire army. Bardock was staring at his instrument case with an indignant scowl, and she smirked. "Why don't you open yours, 'daku? Maybe you'll make a new friend.  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Come on."  
  
" Fuck you."  
  
"Try it."  
  
" I hate you."  
  
She sighed and shook her head before unraveling the ball of cloth that she had set on the bench. More saiyans were beginning to show up in bigger clusters, and she shoved her foot through one of the holes in the body suit. There were a few angry insults from behind which were quickly squelched at the sound of Zorn's growl, and she pulled the bottom half up her legs to rest around the waist. The top half of the body suit was rather complicated, but she figured it out and tugged it up to rest around her small bust and bony shoulders. It was skin tight, black, and had straps and shiny things all over it.  
  
She wasn't sure she liked it.  
  
Zorn called her name and she turned, only to have a piece of oddly-shaped armor shoved into her hands. "You forgot that."  
  
"Really, did I? I'm sorry." She gave him an acidic glare and threw it on over the body suit. Bardock and Toma had ceased movement and were now giving her their undivided attention, causing the battle-worn female to cock an eyebrow. "What?"  
  
Toma stuttered a bit before looking to Bardock, then back to Celipa. "You...that's...wow."  
  
She dipped her other brow suspiciously and turned to look at another female, gasping at what she saw.  
  
Black spandex, red when in the right light, molded itself against her legs. It flowed and poured into the muscle until it hit her hips, where it split and traveled up her sides and into the middle of her chest, leaving her navel, shoulders, and some of the muscles on her flat stomach to be seen by anyone who looked. Red sequins and black leather straps then connected to the revealing fabric and wrapped around her neck and shoulders, hugging and decorating nicely. The outfit finished at a choker around her neck: metal spikes and black leather with a large buckle in the back. Apparently the armor that had been thrown to her didn't function as armor at all; just an encasement for her breasts. It had a royal symbol on the left breastplate and was nothing more than a band that fit around her torso.  
  
She growled and sat with a huff, then set into putting her new boots on. Hearing two soft clicks nearby, she looked up with a hidden smirk to see Bardock finally cracking open his own instrument case. He pulled out the bent brassy tubing and mouthpiece, put them together, and stared at it with incredulity. Celipa couldn't help but start laughing, earning herself a mighty scowl from the captain. "How the hell do you expect to learn to play that? It's got more buttons on it than the interior of a space pod!"  
  
"I can do it! At least I'm not dressed like a royal whore!"  
  
Toma winced and sat back, leaning against the bench behind him. He had found two simple sticks in the case with his new...what had it been called? Bass drum? Anyway, he thought it pretty simple. Looking over Bardock's new instrument, he cocked his head and examined the complicated keys ornamenting the side and blinked in disbelief. He habitually drowned out the usual banter between his best friend and his crew mate, and instead of trying to break up the argument, he asked over them, "Can I see it?"  
  
Bardock grabbed the instrument with one hand and shoved it at Toma roughly, ignoring the random "Be gentle with that!" from behind, and continued to exchange insults with Celipa. Toma grabbed the sax awkwardly, placing his fingers over the most prominent keys and tapping them a few times in different combinations. Looking at the head of the instrument, he examined the reed with confusion and placed it in his mouth. He knew that you had to put air into an instrument to make sound come out, so he blew gently and was mildly disappointed when nothing other than the air he put in came out the other end.  
  
Toma looked up at his surroundings and noticed that other saiyans that had the same instrument were making squeaky, breathy noises with them, so why couldn't he? He furrowed his brow with frustration and took the tip in his teeth, screwing his eyes shut and blowing hard. The argument between Bardock and Celipa abruptly ended when an angry honk came out of the saxophone. Toma ripped his mouth off of the instrument in shock, chuckled self-consciously, and handed the sax back to its rightful owner.  
  
Just then, Zorn thought it was a good time to round everybody up and begin. With a smirk, he straightened his back and called out, "Okay, everybody, shut up, leave your instruments in the stands, and line up on the new lines in the center of the arena. Today begins a very important part of your life, and if you screw up," here he leered and folded his arms, looking very menacing indeed, "then I guess it'll just have to be the last part of your life as well. From this moment on, you acknowledge me as your drum major. Every sentence that comes from your filthy mouths will begin and end with "sir" and nothing else! As you all know quite well, I do not tolerate any insubordinance, and if noticed, it shall be dealt with accordingly. Each day you shall report here at the crack of dawn with your instruments or in your uniforms respectively. They are your responsibility- if you break them, not only will you not get another, but your body shall also be broken to the extent of the damage inflicted. Do I make myself clear, maggots?"  
  
Zorn felt the weight of a thousand glares then, but he didn't falter. A meek "Sir, yes, sir!" was uttered through the crowd and he nodded. Smirking wider, he clapped his hands together and chuckled. "Then without further ado, my little subordinates, let us begin."  
  
A/n: Mwa ha ha... Now you shall all know the horrors of band camp. Well, next chapter, anyway. Review, ne? I'll have you all know now that I write chapters at my own pace, seeing as I take writing as a hobby and not an obligation. I'll try and not to keep you all waiting too long, though, if I get a good response. ^~ 


End file.
